There is just something about snow. It ages us and rejuvenates us at the same time. It makes us wish for the future and dream of the past. Perhaps what captivates me is it's the ability to cover up the world in a fresh white canvas. It evens out all the flaws and societal disturbances for a fresh new blanket waiting to be cut or molded.
And yet, snow brings the nostalgia out of those of us who sit back in the warmth of their dwellings and watch patiently as the flakes fall. It brings us back to a more nurturing time. We wait patiently, our cold noses and rosy cheeks pressed to the window as we try to inspect each individual snow flake before it melts from the warmed fog of our breath. We remember mother checking layer after layer of blush clothing and woolen undergarments until finally you feel like an astronaut getting to take those first steps onto a virgin canvas of ivory. There's nothing like the crisp wintry air in your lungs and the faint smell of a nearby fireplace. We crunch snowballs in our mittens and wait for unsuspecting "intruders" to our ivory fortress. We become Michelangelos of the frozen tundra while building snow creatures who, oddly enough, we put clothes on to keep warm. We grab every flat surface in our vicinity to see what creates the smoothest and fastest vehicle in our quest for terminal velocity. And we wait for hours watching the news to see that one important title that says we can stay in this wonderland one more day.
Of course, this rush of seasonal joy escapes all too quickly into puddles of slush and dread. And, as adults, we must take the new role of shoveler, worried parental inspector and gloomy weary icy-road traveler. But, oh to be that kid once again.
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